


Nightmare Set to Rest

by randy_dowager



Category: Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randy_dowager/pseuds/randy_dowager
Summary: A hastily-scrawled note from the Spymaster of the Inquisition has sent Alistair out of the palace and out of his mind. He'll have to string a few thoughts together, and to do that, he'll have to battle his inner demons - and some outer ones, as well. There's no time to waste.His Queen is trapped in the Fade.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. "E phys in Fade, stat unk"

>   
>  Let the blade pass through the flesh,  
>    
>  Let my blood touch the ground,  
>    
>  Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be  
>    
>  the last sacrifice.  
>    
>  -Andraste 7:12

Alistair clenched his jaw and urged his charger on. He leaned into the crisp, after-dusk air that slapped at his cheeks and kept him awake, although it made his eyes water.

_Who am I kidding? ‘Eyes watering.’ You’d think I could admit, just to myself, that I’ve been sobbing off and on all day._

He shook himself again, feeling the grip of sleep trying to close around him.

_No, body. NO. Not yet. Little further._

Although he had been racking his brain all day for ideas, for plans, for anything to cling to, as soon as his mind tried to touch the truth of his situation in order to _make_ a plan, he panicked. Reason slipped away and he felt his throat close and his heart hammer.

And here the truth came and brushed up against him again, a monster under the tar-black surface of his consciousness.

_Elissa is gone._

Alistair fought back a strangled, manic noise, somewhere between a cry and a laugh, and tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes. He shook them away, leaning closer to his horse’s rollicking frame.

_Gone, as in lost, maybe forever. Gone, as in… dead, maybe._

_Gone._

_Lost._

_Dead._

_In the Fade._

This emotional cycle had been repeating ever since he received a hastily-scrawled, thumbnail-sized missive from their old friend, the Inquisition’s spymaster, on the leg of a raven that rudely _CAWW_ ed right in his face while interrupting a perfectly normal tea. It was nothing special, but the apple jam had been tart and sweet and delicious, and he could almost taste it now on his tongue while he replayed the barely-decipherable words, “ _E phys in Fade, stat unk,_ ” on that tiny scrap of world-shattering paper.

The next stop was rage, and he felt it keenly as his memory scrolled past. Rage boiled from his chest, warming and blinding him. It numbed the saddle-soreness from having ridden for hours after so many months (years?) of… not. It eclipsed the grief that was too bright to look at, and he rode into the hazy edges of the rage gladly.

_Rage at the Inquisitor? Or at Elissa, for getting herself…_

He balked at the thought and swallowed. The rage was too stupid to know who its target was, anyway. It was a force that emanated from him, burning him up – and, blessedly, keeping him awake.

But the rage was also too stupid to make a plan. That was what he needed most: a plan. He had needed one much earlier, if he was honest with himself. When he managed to grasp what Leliana’s shaking hand had written, probably only a few hours before, he had shot out of the palace with barely a pause for armor and weapons, grabbing whatever was on his way, deaf to all but his heartbeat washing through him like war drums. A frantic servant, watching him tear through the halls like a madman, had pressed a sack of provisions upon him. Without that, he would have had neither the materials to survive nor the coins to secure them. And no one would have believed him to be King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden, wearing ill-fitting leathers and brandishing the sword and shield of a common soldier, with his wild, red eyes, and tears and snot dried in slanting lines on his face.

_Must remember to reward that serving girl. It wouldn’t have done at all for the King to die of dehydration or starvation a few hours from Denerim, in search of his lost Queen._

His heart squeezed again, and the cycle came to a close once more with a numbness that let him feel his acute exhaustion. Luckily, there was a near-full moon that night, and he could see enough to know that he was near Redcliffe. What he wanted with Redcliffe, or even with going west, he had no idea.

 _Still need one of those plan thingies,_ he sighed. _What an utter fool I am. How can I begin to save her when I… can’t even…_

The weight of his limbs was becoming unbearable, and he relented, sitting back in defeat. His horse slowed, gratefully, and he dismounted with a tremendous groan. It took everything he had not to let his legs buckle.

Though half-blind in the dark and barely able to walk, Alistair led the horse off the road and through a field. He tied her to a mature tree, poured water into his cupped hand for her, and drank some himself. And with that, he curled up on the open ground and was fast asleep.


	2. Easy dullness

> Now her hand is raised
> 
> A sword to pierce the sun
> 
> With iron shield she defends the faithful 
> 
> Let chaos be undone
> 
> -Victoria 1:3

“ What do you think of Maeve?” 

Alistair wrote an exaggerated grimace on his face,  then devoured the soft laugh in response. 

“ Mabel?” came Elissa’s next suggestion. 

“ Maker, no! Back to Maeve; let’s discuss how fabulous a little Maeve would be,” he chuckled, threading his fingers easily through hers, feeling their tender warmth. His eyes wandered over her the texture of her periwinkle dress, its gentle glide over her  rounded and growing belly; her forearms beneath the rolled-up sleeves, her bare toes peeking from under the hem, sinking into the grass as they walked. 

The sun felt pleasantly warm, although a breeze would have been welcome. And at the thought of it, a swell of cool air wandered past him, drying tears on his cheeks. He reached up to his face, confused. Why was he crying? But now he found nothing there, and allowed his hand to drop, smiling up at the trees whose leaves murmured dreamily overhead. 

She idly commented on the growth of the currants. He half-listened, and nodded, lulled into a pleasant dullness by the serenity around him. His fingers squeezed hers, seeking the subtle reassurance of her touch. But he found it somehow missing. 

Roused to mild curiosity, he looked over at her, and found that in Elissa’s place was— well… Elissa. But… 

His curiosity blossomed to confusion as he took in her appearance, so changed from just a moment ago. Her eyes were heavy and dark, and  they  bored straight into his,  their idle playfulness replaced with urgency and pleading . Her hair was matted with grime, and she wore her Warden armor,  splattere d with gore. Her skin was taut with exhaustion and covered in small scrapes and cuts  and filth . 

“ Elissa?” he heard himself say, though his voice seemed to wander past her, as did the sunlight. She looked as though she had been pasted onto the garden.  She was of another world.

“ Alistair,” she grated, dark and strange. He couldn’t identify the emotions that she felt or engendered in him.

“ Are you alright? What’s happened to you?” There was something pulling at him, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was. “Are you alright?” he asked again, trying to assuage his confusion.

“ I’m heading for an open rift. I need you to guide me. If I can feel you, I can find my way out. Can you do that? Can you find an open rift?”

She reached forward slowly and took his hand, the look in her eyes piercing him like knives. Why did he hurt so much? 

Although he was tempted to pull away from her, wanting to fall back into the sweet abyss, he squeezed her hand, surprised by its cool roughness. “Elissa?” he croaked.

“ I need your help, Alistair. I can’t last long. I can’t eat or drink here.  Try to remember. Find a rift. And I’ll find you.” He watched with growing horror as tears began to roll down her cheeks, cleaning pink trails through the layers of gray  detritus . She squeezed her eyes shut, her face taking on the prayerful aspect he recognized through years of loyal observation. “Maker be with you,” she whispered. “Maker  watch over us both.”

Her eyes floated open  and fixed him with one final, intense gaze.  Then she disappeared, along with the palace gardens  and the easy dullness,  in a gasp .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! My computer is apparently on retreat so I’m posting from my phone. I apologize for any formatting ugliness.


	3. A Dismal Place

> Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
> 
> -Khalil Gibran

Alistair shuddered and coughed and spluttered awake, feeling reality pour into him at a pace that threatened to drown him. The cold earth beneath him seemed to slam into him hard enough to break his impossibly stiff, sore bones to bits. Watery, gray sunlight came glancing through dewy bushes into his face. A horse huffed nearby, accusingly. 

_ She must be hungry. _

“So sorry,” Alistair coughed. “Dying of my feelings. Give me a moment; I’ll be right with you.” 

Tears seeped from him silently and unimpeded as he rolled to one side and moved to get up. Scraps of images coalesced.  _Elissa pregnant? I’ve had that dream before_ ,  he thought despondently.  _Our shared dream, after all, and why she struck out in the first place…_

After Alistair’s own, admittedly rather selfish, jaunt over jungles and seas and ruins in order to understand his father’s disappearance, and after the time it took Elissa to put him back together  in the aftermath, it had been impossible to argue with her. They needed an heir. And, also importantly, she  _ wanted  _ an heir. So did he.  They had been patiently (and rather pleasantly, he thought) trying for one these twelve years. It was her turn, she said, to leave the safe haven of the royal palace in search of something.

That something was a “cure” for the taint that made a Grey Warden a Grey Warden (and that also happened to make a Grey Warden infertile.)

She would try with Avernus, she said. Her letters indicated she met with Grand Enchanter Fiona, who  happened to be at Redcliffe, as another resource – someone who  not only possessed considerable magical expertise, but also  had once  been a Grey Warden  and was one no longer. Then her letters described a change of plans. Taking up with the Inquisition. Investigating the disappearance of the Wardens, and the false Calling they had both noticed, but had not been free to do anything about, given their day jobs.

He managed to reach a sort of sitting position, although his head throbbed with the effort of it. Alistair hadn’t liked the change of plans, or the Inquisition, for that matter. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, trapped as he had been in the walls of the palace  and in the seat of responsibility.  ( _Although in retrospect, escaping was apparently as simple as grabbing a horse in broad daylight and riding off…_ )It was a dismal place without her.

_Everywhere, from here on until forever, will be a dismal place_.  He felt the floor of panic dropping from under him and stifled a wail, shuddering against his cold and hunger and pain.  _ I have to find her. Without her,…  _

A flash of dream-memory jolted him into abrupt stillness. 

Elissa, wearing her Warden armor. 

Elissa, dirty and battle-wasted and desperately _needing his help._

His thoughts piled on faster than he could see them. All he could gather  as they raced past  was urgency, and hope, and one word:  _Rift_.

_If that was really you, Elissa_ ,  he vowed, pressing a shaking  fist  to his chest,  _ I will find you. I will do whatever it takes to rescue you.  _

_ I  will rescue you.  I must. I WILL. _


	4. Relentless

> In dread I looked up once more
> 
> And saw the darkness warp and crumble, 
> 
> For it was thin as samite,
> 
> A fragile shroud over the Light
> 
> Which turned it to ash.
> 
> -Exaltations 1

The familiar crackling sound grew louder against the backdrop of his horse’s gallop. He dismounted – limber from action but dangerously exhausted  –  and tied her nearby, hands and mind and legs a blistering blur of movement. Sword and shield whined from his back into his aching hands, their bindings having grown too familiar over the day’s use. 

“ELISSA!” he shouted, voice as taut as his face, as frantic as his need for the security of her. Shades and demons ambled toward him and he pummeled them with his fury.  And his fury was  _ relentless. _

__

“Elissa, if you’re there-- RRAUGH!” he slammed something. He was too focused on the thin-but-visible tear in the Veil, and the promise of the woman who meant “home” to him on the other side,to much notice what it might be. His blade cast one after another of the mindless creatures back. His heart rate climbed steadily as he toiled against the seemingly-endless flow of enemies and bellowed into the din in a series of desperate pleas for his beloved to emerge. 

__

How many rifts had he visited with the same result? Four? Five? More? The repetitiveness of approaching one, then swinging wildly for minutes or hours to clear the way, only for the woman he loved and needed  _ more than his own life _ to refuse to emerge, stacked on Alistair like layers of rock and rot, as if burying him in the stale blackness of the Deep Roads. 

__

After some time, on the verge of collapse and with no Elissa to be found, he retreated to the horse, far enough from the rift to go unnoticed, and threw himself to the grass to catch his breath. The cool air burned his raw throat. He forced himself to consume a few trembling bites of food from his pack. 

__

Tears were waiting for him somewhere nearby, in the vicinity of the panic that threatened to smash him to the ground at any moment. They hung back, for now, menacing but quiet. His thoughts continued to swirl. He didn’t feel as though he could ever risk letting them land, lest they overwhelm him; but after a time, a few would sneak through. 

__

_ What am I doing?  _ Said his thoughts.  _ I said I would bring her back. How? How is this ever going to work?  This is never going to work. I’m wasting my time. I’m wasting HER time, her limited, precious time…  _

__

_ Is she even alive? Or is it MY time I’m wasting, on the basis of a fragment of a bizarre, griefy-panicky dream I had?  _

__

Alistair’s mounting despair rose to a roar in his mind and he felt suddenly that he had to move, to do something.  _ Anything. He watched his hands  swiftly  bundle his things and untie his charger.  _

____

He rode on.  He didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter, although a growing d oubt followed him, tethered  tightly  to his gut.  It told him that he did, in fact, have another choice.

____

_If only I knew what that could be._

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	5. Trust

> Truth is everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.
> 
> -Bob Marley

Grass and tree roots and bits of rock mumbled beneath his racing feet. Hills rose and fell on either side of him, with the sun hovering in a cruelly indifferent sky. 

“ELISSA!” Alistair howled. 

He ran as fast as he could, feeling as though his bones might fly apart, but he couldn’t stop. He was going nowhere in particular, except where he could find _her_. 

He was increasingly aware of a great plane of darkness behind him, like the surface of a vertical lake made of shadow. Ink-black and eerily silent, it not only kept up with his mad pace, but gained steadily. It swallowed trees, rocks, and hills into the calm of nonexistence. And it filled Alistair with absolute terror.  If he couldn’t find Elissa soon, the darkness would take him, too, and he would be lost forever to the abyss.

“Elissa, where are you?!” he called, although his words seemed to fall by the wayside as he ran, not even reaching his own ears. 

As his terror turned cold in his limbs, a small, white light appeared a few paces in front of him. It was formless at first, simply keeping pace with him, but it gradually grew and took on the shape of a human – at least from the waist up. Below that, it was a handful of meandering tendrils of light. A curiosity rose to compete with Alistair’s fear, although he continued running as fast as he could. 

Then it spoke.

“Your Majesty,” said the light softly.

“What?” Alistair sputtered.

“May I speak with you?” The light continued, and waited for a response.

“Erh,… I’m a bit busy,” Alistair panted, taking a glance behind him. 

The light raised its ethereal arms in a smooth motion, and though Alistair continued running, the landscape stopped moving past him. He found himself floating in a bright, open space. His environment dropped away, as did the darkness threatening to consume him, seemingly all at once. 

So he stopped running. 

“Oh, Maker’s balls! It’s gone!” He propped his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Pardon the impertinence, but I have a question for you, Your Majesty. Were you running away from something? Or running toward something?”

When he felt somewhat recovered, hands on his hips, skin hot and sweating, Alistair looked at the light form again, appraisingly. “What are you, exactly? Where am I?”

“I am Trust.”

“Trust?”

“Yes.” The creature’s voice was calm and ethereal, like a strain of music heard through a dense forest.

Alistair screwed up his mouth and brow in contemplation.  _ Trust sounds like… a spirit. _ Recognition dawned on him, embarrassingly slowly, as always…  _ The Fade. A dream.  _ “Right, right.  Sorry, what did you ask? Running toward or away. That’s right.” He mopped his face, although the realization that he was dreaming made the sweat either less worrisome or less… there. He felt fine,  albeit still anxious. “I… suppose it was both.”

“Both?” The spirit’s light danced attentively.

“I was running from a… darkness, and toward Elissa. My wife,” he added. “I have to find her. She’s here, in the Fade.” After a pause, he added softly, “Have you seen her?”

“I have.”

Alistair choked out a rushing sigh of relief. “She’s alive!” He felt a single sob shake him by the shoulders.

“She is a bright light, corporeal or not!  Such a being is hard to miss.” Trust seemed to glow a little brighter at the thought. “Her light will fade quickly, though.”

“I know! I must hurry. Will you help me? Please?”

Trust inclined its head toward Alistair, either in assent or consideration. A few painful moments passed while Alistair clenched his fists to force himself into patience. 

“Here is the help I can offer, which indeed, is the help you need!” The spirit’s voice dissolved into something like laughter. 

“What is it?” Alistair ground out, fists shaking with the effort to remain still.

Trust seemed to take all of this in. “You will find Elissa when you understand why the darkness pursues you.”

_Not what I was hoping for…_ Alistair groaned, running a shaking hand through his hair. 

“I know,” Trust said softly. Alistair could make out the features of the spirit’s face, outlined in light and filled with tenderness.  He could see himself, somehow, mirrored in its expression. He knew what this spirit felt as it looked at him: a serene connectedness, a secure knowing rooted all the way down in the base of his being. He felt it, too, for a moment, as they locked gazes.

Something old and deep shifted and gave way. It felt like the satisfying-yet-alarming _pop_ of a joint, but not in a place he could point to. Alistair suddenly felt exposed and tender, as if he were naked in a winter storm, and his breath sucked out of him. Tears sprung to his eyes. 

Trust inclined its head once more, and all at once, Alistair was spluttering back to consciousness in an open field beneath the stars. 


	6. Sorely needed

> If you find me not with you, you will never find me. For I have been with you from the beginning of me.
> 
> -Rumi

_ Well, fuck. _

_ Fucking shit. _

Alistair paced. He shivered. It was still an hour or more until dawn. He could feel, and sometimes  hear , the creasing of his skin around his joints because of how caked he was in dirt, sweat, and whatever that gunk was that those  _ uglier-than-fucking-Oghren terrors  _ splattered on him when he crunched them with his shield. 

“Fucking… fucking fuck,” he muttered, flailing his arms helplessly.

_ “You will find Elissa when you understand why the darkness pursues you.” _

_ Trust. “Trust.” Feels like a lot to ask in a name.  I should call myself “Laugh at my Jokes.” _

He sighed and shook his arms again, partly to warm himself. He hadn’t brought a blanket or a coat, or anything helpful, really.  _ Being unprepared is the  worst, except  for  everything else I’m feeling right now. _

_ I was unprepared for losing Elissa. _

His shoulders slumped and he hugged his arms around himself, feeling diminutive and frightened. Darkness. Terror. Danger. 

The urge rose to leave, move, act, distract himself from this feeling – but something nagged at him. 

_ This is the feeling of the darkness chasing me, isn’t it?  _

This darkness…  he paused to let himself feel it for a moment, overwhelming as it was.  _ My fear of losing her? Is that what this is? _

It was familiar, somehow. He  _ knew _ this tar-black dread, like the certainty of death reaching for him. An image rose in his mind as he  stood  cradl ing himself against the darkness within and without. 

**_ Isolde, her face twisted,  voice raised,  casting a pointed finger toward Alistair. Firelight glared on her gold necklace. He stared at it,  letting her words tumble past him and  avoiding looking at Eamon. _ **

**_ Duncan’s warm hand on his shoulder like a blanket,  his eyes containing a solemn promise to care. A father he didn’t know he was longing for. Alistair firmly gripped the Joining chalice and brought it toward his lips . _ **

**_ Loghain, the crest on his armor glinting in the fading sunlight,  face in shadow. Distant shouts and the thundering of catapults were barely audible. _ **

Alistair was on the ground,  hands and knees splayed in the grass,  eyes wide and unseeing in the darkness. His heart ached,  b leeding out from  emotional  wounds he thought long-healed. 

**_ Severed ties.  Abandoned. Betrayed. Alone.  Adrift, unloved, uncared-for, belonging nowhere, to no one.  _ **

**_ Incapable. I can’t make it on my own. Alone, I’m as good as dead. Worse than dead. _ **

This time, when tears came, they came straight from the deep. Alistair vocalized  like a  tortured animal as a lifetime of pain swept over and through him. 

After some time, a tiny crack opened for thoughts, and a timid one entered. 

_ I’m the common theme here, aren’t I? This is all me.  _

_ My need to find someone to trust, someone I can attach to, who can  save me…  This has hurt me so many times. _

There were more.  Being abandoned by his mother as an infant, guiltless as she was in her death, then by his father. Then Eamon. Every adult who claimed to care for him, in fact.  Investing himself in the Chantry, only to be shuttled off to the Wardens. Binding himself to the Wardens, only to have the whole Order be slaughtered. Elissa… 

Elissa, his One, his very heart, mind, body, soul… every part of him, in fact, forever. His Elissa. His path and his meaning and his life and everything good in the universe! O nly to have her… 

_ Maker, I can’t imagine losing her. I worked so hard to trust her  after being so damaged . How could I start again now? _

Thoughts and images quieted, although his body still thrummed with emotion. Feelings danced around his insides like a caged animal that had suddenly and ecstatically been freed and was desperately curious. And energetic.

His tears continued, more quietly, for some time, as he watched the drama unfold inside him. Calmer now, Alistair could  clearly perceive wave after wave of insight wash ing through. 

_ The darkness doesn’t pursue me. It IS me.  _

_ I can’t get any farther from it by running from it. Just as I can’t get any closer to Elissa by running toward her. _

A weird sort of smile found its way to his face, and he laughed at the sheer strangeness of it all. “So that’s it, is it?” he croaked, snotty and exhausted, but elated all the same. “Thanks,  uh… friend .”

_ To find Elissa, I have to stop running. _

He  sat back on his heels, huffing and sniffling. His horse snorted softly somewhere nearby and he wondered suddenly what she must think of all this, but didn’t spare too much thought for her. 

_I trust Elissa. I worked hard to trust her, and I do, deeply. She’s more capable than anyone else in Thedas. I would bet my life on it. I HAVE bet my life on her capability, come to think of it. Multiple times. Gladly._

_ This fear isn’t about her being able to survive. It’s about my ability to cope if she doesn’t. _

_ And given her capability, I just need to get out of her way…  _

Alistair gasped suddenly, then groaned, smacking his temple with the heel of his hand. 

“ Idiot!” he spat. “She needs me to guide her to a rift…”

_ Thank the Maker for a moment or two of clarity. It was sorely needed.  _

He raised his gaze and his eyes slowly focused on the rift he had most recently done futile battle against. Its green glow faintly illuminated a clearing not far from where he sat.

_ I know what I must do. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have a new computer soon, so formatting should improve! Thanks for your engagement. I hope you enjoy.


	7. Shifting lines

> Although the world is full or suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
> 
> -Helen Keller

“HAAUGH!”

Alistair loosed a massive, downward strike of his sword on a despair demon, interrupting the magic it attempted to weave. A shade was closing in from behind him, and he turned to hold his shield up against it while sending the tip of his blade deep into the demon’s chest to finish it off. The shade scratched uselessly at him while he maneuvered to use the small stand of trees to his advantage.

The late morning sun felt hot and thin on him as he toiled. And the ever-present, unsettling disturbance of the rift purred over his shoulder. 

“Come on, Elissa.” His tone was friendly, chiding. “You can do it. And I’ll be here when you do.”

He tuned in to his body sensations during one of the quiet spells. Was it his imagination? Or could he sense a Warden’s tainted blood somewhere nearby? A thrill of excitement reinvigorated him. If he could sense her, then she could undoubtedly sense him, too — Veil or no. 

That was the idea, anyway. The idea he was sure she had had to begin with. The Plan. 

_ She was always much better with plans than I was. _

As he stood quietly, eyes shut and waiting, paying close attention to the discomfort he felt at being still when he felt strongly that he should be doing something, he felt increasingly sure that she was close. 

“Come on. Come on.” His voice was barely a whisper. Almost a prayer.

A few more sickly-green somethings and another despair demon appeared. Alistair neutralized its magic, relying on one of his old Templar tricks. All this would be over soon. There was no need to hold anything in reserve.

Even so, the wait was interminable. It was much worse for the inactivity of it, now that the area was clear once more. Alistair glared at the rift, suddenly wished that a few more demons would climb out that he could fight, tired though he was. His skin prickled all over with impatience. But aside from the rift’s hum, it was silent.

Until it wasn’t. 

A quiet, rasping voice came from the direction of the rift.    
“Alistair...”

He was beside her before she finished saying his name. “Elissa! I’m here!”

The shifting lines of the rift obscured her, but she was there. She was  _ here. So close he could smell her. His blood thrummed, a familiar but subtle Warden resonance keening from his scalp down his spine, telling him that his heart could start beating again, cradled in the surety of her loving presence.  _

__

He reached up and out toward the rift, uncertain but determined. “I’ll get you. What do I need to do?”

__

Her breaths were ragged and shallow. He gulped. She was so close. She had done so much. How could he bring her home now? 

__

“Your Majesty,” a familiar voice soothed him. “Please stay calm. Her Majesty will be fine. Could you… I’m sorry to ask… jump a little?”

__

Alistair obeyed without question or thought. He squatted down and leapt as high as he could with a mighty roar. And there, in midair, he hovered, queasily suspended between worlds. 

__

There was Elissa, crouched on the damp, rocky ground nearby, looking in desperate need of care. She was dirty and wounded, with hollow cheeks and cracked lips. But his breath caught and heart soared as their eyes met at last. He reached for her with every ounce of himself, but couldn’t close the whole distance.

__

“Elissa,” he whispered. “It’s all right now. Everything will be alright.” 

__

On one side of him hovered Trust, shining benevolently over the foreboding, raw Fade. “I have a promise to keep, Your Majesties, before you go.”

__

Elissa nodded almost imperceptibly and started crawling and dragging herself toward Alistair, face screwed up in pain with the effort of these last few feet. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes — tears of relief and pain, both. 

__

Trust continued, floating alongside Elissa as though for emotional support. “Here, Your Majesty.” And the spirit reached out to her, enveloping her in a sparkling glow. “And you as well, Your Majesty.” 

__

Then Alistair noticed, with significant bewilderment, the thrumming of Elissa’s tainted blood dissipate. As the glow enveloped him, he looked down at himself, feeling strangely afraid. “What are you—”

__

“It is done,” said Trust. “I wish you both a safe  and pleasant journey henceforth.” The spirit bowed, glowing brightly for a moment. “It has been a pleasure, Majesties.”

__

Trust floated out of sight,  and with it, Alistair’s worries about what had just happened. There were more immediate worries.  Elissa finally scraped close enough for Alistair to grip her hand. He laughed softly. “There you are.” He squeezed and pulled her to him,  folding her against his chest  with all the strength and tenderness he could muster. 

__

All at once, he was home.

__

She collapsed into his arms, too weak to do or say anything more.  They slid from the Fade and fell a few feet to the grass below.  Alistair stumbled, feeling the weight of her now that they were out of the rift. Elation and relief flooded him at the sensation of holding her. It was all he could do to focus on what needed to happen next.

__

“I’ve got you, my love,” he soothed. “Maker. I’ve finally got you.” 

__

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited! Thanks for hanging in there with me. Just a little fluff left. :)


	8. Out of the Grave

> The one who repents, who has faith,
> 
> Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
> 
> She shall know true peace.
> 
> -Transfigurations 10

Alistair carried her as quickly as his battered body could muster to the camp where his meager supplies waited. There, he commenced the slow process of reviving Elissa, first with small amounts of water and food, then with rest, then more of each of the above.

All the while, he watched her with eager tenderness and murmured reassurances, hardly able to believe that he was in her presence once more. Not being able to _sense_ her, Warden-to-Warden, contributed to the surreality. But that topic could wait.

Slowly, she regained the energy and hydration required to speak.

“You sure took your sweet time in settling down,” she finally said, glaring at him. But he noticed the wry smile on her lips and returned it.

“I thought we married quite young, actually.”

Her laugh was weak, but warm as firelight. Tender places inside him that had been dormant these months began to stir.

Alistair took her in his arms where they sat. “I’m sorry. Very, _very_ sorry. I, er… I had some old demons to face. New ones, too, but the old ones were a real bastard.”

“The kind you can’t swing a sword at?”

He nodded, his jaw against her crown.

“I battled a literal demon, and it was _also_ a real bastard. I’ll tell you all about it, as soon as I can think of it without crying.” Elissa sighed. She waited for her voice to stop trembling. “I must say, you look about as bad as I think I do. I can’t imagine what you went through the last few days.”

“Well. Yes, some of the worst days of my life. But at least I had water.”

“Water! Spoiled, royal bastard,” she muttered.

Alistair chuckled. Then he moved his supply pack, near-empty though it was, and beckoned. “Lie down, would you?”

She did so, stiffly, and allowed her eyes to close. His hands worked to tear off a scrap of his shirt sleeve, which he doused with water and used to gently clean Elissa’s various cuts and scrapes. This ritual of theirs was old, and it was more comforting for it.

Then the absence of her sensation caught his attention again. Her Warden blood wasn’t _Warden_ anymore. And neither was his. When he paused to notice how he felt, it was as though everything – every rock, blade of grass, beam of sunlight – felt just slightly closer, more colorful, more alive. He had been living all these years with one foot sinking slowly into a grave. And then it had been anticlimactically lifted out.

“Are we… not Wardens anymore?”

Elissa was quiet for a long moment. He could feel the tumultuous emotions rising in her; he was pleased to find that some of his sensitivities to her remained. “No.”

“Hm.”

Alistair wasn’t displeased. He loved the Grey Wardens. And he had served admirably. It was appropriate for the Ferelden throne to separate from the Order, wasn’t it? _Past time, really,_ he thought.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me. Well done. You accomplished what you set out to.”

She lifted her head to look at him, brows knitting. “What? No I haven’t.”

“You haven’t?” Alistair blinked at her.

A smile bloomed across her face. It was a wicked one, and he knew it well. “We have an heir to conceive.”

He felt himself blushing, ridiculous as it was. “Always work to be done...” he groaned, though he couldn’t conceal his smile.

“I…” There was another sequence of emotions playing across Elissa’s face as she stammered, “You… You should really meet with Grand Enchanter Fiona. Will you? Please?”

Alistair was perplexed, but nodded. “I’m in a vulnerable state. I would do literally anything you asked of me.”

Elissa beamed up at him. Her light shone brighter than could be obscured by the grime on her or the dark circles under her eyes. Alistair soared.


	9. Epilogue

> In war, victory.
> 
> In peace, vigilance.
> 
> In death, sacrifice.
> 
> -Grey Warden Oath

The daylight was waning now, but they decided to make a push for Denerim. Alistair helped Elissa mount his loyal charger, with whom he felt a bond by now. He rode behind her, delighted to cradle her body with his, to support and contain her, and to bring her home.

“You’re not going to tell people you rescued me, are you?” asked Elissa, turning slightly over her shoulder.

“Maker, wouldn’t dream of it! You saved yourself, entirely. I was too busy saving myself to be of any real help, but I’m afraid it had to be done. I finally realized that you couldn’t do it.”

“Hm. I feel as though I _have_ saved you before...”

“Not from this,” Alistair sighed.

“You’re being uncharacteristically serious.” There was a pause. “Well, alright. I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea about my rescue.”

He chuckled lightly. “While we’re on the topic of seriousness… I don’t really look _that_ bad, do I?”

“ _That_ bad, as in, as bad as I look?”

“You look perfectly beautiful. As you always do.” His hand squeezed hers, resting on his thigh.

“Well _you_ look a right mess! Honestly!” She shook suddenly with deep laughter as Alistair squeezed her waist to tickle her. When she recovered, she added, “And yet, there’s still no one I’d rather look at every day.” Her eyes darted toward him over her shoulder.

Alistair nuzzled her neck, overwhelmed with the kind of affection that always turned him to putty. “Maker. I think she likes me,” he murmured.

“Very much, I’m afraid.”

The sun settled between rolling hills speckled with trees while they rode in blissful silence.

“In war… diplomacy,” Alistair murmured.

“What?” came Elissa’s sleepy reply.

“Diplomacy, or… maybe sandwiches. A nice, sharp cheese, and-”

She laughed softly. “You’re hungry. Don’t torture yourself.”

“Too right, my love. In peace,…?”

“In peace, naps. In comfortable chairs.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Definitely naps. In death,…” Then the realization struck him that he wouldn’t be walking into the Deep Roads at midlife (or at least, he had no present plans to). “Maker, we’ll be buried, won’t we? Hadn’t thought of that. In death, fancy clothes? They’ll bury us in fancy clothes one day, I expect.”

“One day, hopefully a long, long time from now.”

“In death, old age and fancy clothes.” Alistair nodded. It was such a strangely hopeful thought that Elissa felt disoriented. _A long life. Having children, AND getting to watch them grow up? Grandchildren, maybe? Is this what life is like for non-Wardens?_

If he had had any tears left in him, they would have risen with a swell of gratitude.

Elissa settled back further against Alistair with a satisfied sigh. “What do you think about the name… Rose?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed. I sure enjoyed getting this out into the world. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy my head canon. This is my first time posting. It's finished, so I'll just post a chapter per week until it's done!
> 
> Feedback is welcome, including about whether "Angst" is the proper catagory. It's pretty light angst, I think. Heads up that there will be some language and light violence further on. 
> 
> Also, if you're interested in helping me write a Sci-Fi romance video game, please let me know! :3


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